NESDIN !
quincey carried each verse with a steady lull that seemed so uncharacteristic from the manic strums that not only occupied the typical empty air of the tavern, but filled it with such a rowdy energy, that one could not help but allow themselves to be made a victim of it. there’s talent in that, even if nesdin wasn’t one to partake. but even considering the even pace, she more than made up for the chaotic energy with the content of the lyrics.
he says nothing, merely nodding his head in time and sending a wan smile her way.
she, the talent that few would appreciate in their time. he, her captive and more than willing to give her the attention she deserved. what else could he give her?
the tavern is mostly empty this early in the day and she has more energy than she knows what to do with. ringlets falling past her shoulders, curls bouncing as she sways and cleans for coin, singing an old song she doesn’t remember the origins of -- and she pauses when she notices Nesdin, breaks in the words for a half a moment before she realizes he’s nodding his head along with her words.
she spins with the broom in her hands like a maid in a lord’s castle. and she certainly feels like one, knowing the brothel ladies have opened their doors upstairs to listen to her as well.
“ but, oh, what beautiful things I'll wear what beautiful dresses and hair. . . ” ♫
“ ah -- Nes! how long have you been there? I thought you left out with the others to the woods. ”














